


but a wisp of smoke in your line of sight

by timber (calculus)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, Ambiguous Relationships, Flash Fic, Gen, Light Angst, M/M, Post-Break Up, Slice of Life, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 17:40:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12215652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calculus/pseuds/timber
Summary: I dreamt you'd loved me again, and that we were happy, sitting across each other at the dining room table. I dreamt and I dreamt, and yet the reality is so simple: it was just a dream.





	but a wisp of smoke in your line of sight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [transit (dollyeo)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dollyeo/gifts).



> :) :) :) :) :)

**05:50AM.**

Soonyoung shakes awake without reason. The sun is slow in its rise, but the sky has already lightened, and the light shines bright through his windows. He blinks a few times, tries to rub his eyes into submission, but even the momentary white bursts aren’t enough to block out the light. He flicks eyes to the alarm clock on his bedside, bright red numbers taunting him, and tries not to scream.

The bed is large, a queen-size semi-soft mattress for Soonyoung because he likes the feeling of sleeping on cushions, but he only ever wakes up on the left side of the bed, blankets tossed to the side and pillows crowding him like a protective barrier. He lifts one now and smothers it over his face, a makeshift blind, and breathes in the heavy smell of detergent.

He’d been dreaming again, but the last thing he remembers is the slip of a hand and the ache of a smile. Just the thought has him tightly breathing, a fist clenched over his lungs, and Soonyoung presses the pillow deeper into his face, like it’ll block everything out. Eventually he surrenders to nature and lifts back up the pillow to breathe.

It’s mid-July, right in the peak of Seoul’s summer heat wave, but Soonyoung just feels cold. He pulls over the blankets, swaddles himself safe under its protection, and waits for his body to warm up.

 

**08:20AM.**

Soonyoung’s late to work again, but at least his direct head won’t be in the office until after ten today. Hopefully he’ll be able to bribe Suji-ssi to let him slip in without letting Manager Lee know; his streak is currently 3-0.

There’s a cup of coffee on his desk when he arrives to his cubicle, breathless and heart racing from the three flights of stairs he’d run. He could possibly cry; he forgot to buy a new bag of grounds to replace the empty container at home, so he had to leave the house without a waking shot of caffeine.

His deskmate, Junhui, leans over the cubicle wall with a sympathetic smile, watching as Soonyoung pulls off his messenger bag and plops down in his seat. “Rough morning, Soonyoung-ssi?”

He drains about half the cup before answering, letting out a deep sigh. “God, the roughest. Couldn’t sleep again, and I ran out of coffee again.”

“Then, lucky you for having your coffee fairy stock you up,” Junhui says, crinkling his eyes. He pats the border wall. “Seungcheol wants you in his office before nine; monthly evaluations are up.”

Soonyoung groans, rests his face against his desk. “Shit, I completely forgot about those. Do you think he’s gonna bring up my quarterly figures again? I did my best to bring them up, but I know they’re still shit compared to yours or Jihoon’s.”

Junhui shrugs, completely unhelpful and sits back down, leaving Soonyoung to stew in his anxiety. Soonyoung finishes the rest of his coffee and sets the cup aside, pulling out his fiscal numbers for the third quarter to go over before his monthly roast with Seungcheol.

 

**13:56PM.**

Lunch is the samgak kimbap he’d manage to buy on the way to work; it sits crushed at the bottom of his bag, but Soonyoung pulls it out with relish. Food is food and at the moment, all he can think of is how good seasoned seaweed and tuna mayo is going to taste.

He eats at his desk, not wanting to give up an hour’s worth of pay to sit alone in the break room, but it does feel particularly defeating, having to read through briefs while chewing through rice grains and laver. Junhui’s out for lunch with Jihoon, promising to bring him back an Americano to keep him awake through the second half of the day, so it’s quiet on the western front before him. There’s the occasional chatter from the hallways and the ever-present soundtrack of keyboard clicking and swivel of plastic on plastic; Soonyoung regrets not bringing his headphones to work.

Mingyu’s head pops by in his peripheral, a foot taller than everyone else’s in the office, followed by his high-pitched laughter, a bright spot of joy in an ocean of grey monotony. Soonyoung peeks up, but pushes his head down immediately when he catches sight of dark brown hair next to Mingyu, a small but genuine smile on Wonwoo’s face as he listens to the words spilling out next to him.

The tuna tastes like ash in his mouth.

 

**20:52PM.**

The trains home at this hour are less crowded, mostly with stragglers like him or couples making out surreptitiously in the corner. Soonyoung doesn’t think of anything but what he can possibly make from the neglected bottom drawer of his refrigerator. There’s vague memory of hobak from earlier in the week, but he’s not certain whether that had been from this or _last_ week.

The walk home is a struggle, but he comforts himself with the thought of cracking open a cold Cass and a good night’s rest. He drags himself up the stairs of his complex, the elevator still tragically out of order; perhaps one of them should really send a note to their superintendent and get it finally fixed like Wonwoo had suggested. That had been a month ago.

When he opens the door, Soonyoung takes a deep breath and heaves out all the tension in his body, dropping his head onto his chest with a decided slump. His keys, he tosses aside without care, and the messenger bag is slung onto the coat rack by the large shoe cabinet at the entranceway. He toes out of his shoes and places them in one of the empty cupboard spaces. Three other pairs of shoes stare back at him.

Making dinner is automatic, a routine he’d gotten into after the last time Wonwoo had gotten gastritis from their takeout habits. There’s indeed hobak in the crisper, but it’s wilted and half-molded; Soonyoung tosses it and takes out a half-full carton of eggs and spam instead. Omelettes it is. He sets up his music player, hooks up his phone to the AUX cable, and sets about scrambling eggs and chopping spam to SHINee’s debut album. He does a little twirl while Jonghyun croons about his pretty noona, and wiggles his shoulders as he sets a pan on the stove and pours in oil to start cooking.

When the omelette looks done enough, he grabs a plate from the drying rack and slides the eggs down onto the ceramic surface. Then he turns around to ask Wonwoo if he wants to share spoons tonight instead. The empty table stares back at him.

He eats by the sink.

 

**01:11AM.**

_It’s a dream; this much is clear. But Soonyoung is warm and wrapped in someone’s arms, and he shifts closer into their chest, nosing them. Wonwoo huffs a soft laugh, ruffling his hair, and pulls him in closer._

_“You didn’t talk to me today,” he murmurs, low and wistful. Soonyoung doesn’t respond, just presses his cheeks to his body, drawing up his arms in a self-embrace. “You should’ve talked to me.”_

_Soonyoung shakes his head, silent, and Wonwoo tucks his chin on top, running gentle fingers down his back. “I miss you, Soon-ah.” Soonyoung shakes his head again, reaching out with a hand to grip at his shirt. “Will you try again tomorrow?”_

_He doesn’t respond, and Wonwoo sighs, squeezing his arms around his waist. After a moment, his breath evens out, as if he’s dropped off into sleep, and Soonyoung lets out his own shaky breath._

He wakes up to a dark ceiling, and throws an arm to hide his face. It’s cold again. He draws his blankets back up, and curls his body in, and shuts his eyes. His chest hurts. It takes another hour to fall back asleep again.

**Author's Note:**

> ~~up next: the Meanie Sequel~~
> 
>  
> 
> jk!!!!! this was a quick writing exercise done completely out of spite for the loveliest nini bc i make promises n i try my Utmost 2 keep them hahaha. but it's as complete as it gets, tbh LOLOLOL


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